


Robbers

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: BANG BANG MOTHERFUCKER, Blood, Calvin - Freeform, Death, F/M, I'm mildly sorry for this, Inspired by Music, Shooting, Suicide, but not really, hahaha fuck you cali
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bang. Bang.</p>
<p>Blood. Cali had never seen so much fucking blood in her life. It was seeping out of the two bullet holes in her boyfriend's stomach-- god, it was everywhere. It clung sticky to his hands like coppery glue, dripping from his fingertips. Blood was everywhere but where it should've been: inside his body. She had it on her hands, too, and she swore she could even taste the faintest twang of it on Gavin's lips as they kissed. He kissed with more life than he appeared to have in his eyes. It's like he knew it would be one of the last times their lips touched. It's like he knew that it was end.</p>
<p>Or, in which Gavin is shot and killed while trying to rob a store with the love of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robbers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calimaslinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calimaslinson/gifts).



> Based entirely off of the music video for Robbers by The 1975. Well.. not entirely.
> 
> Checkfuckingmate, Cali.

 

> _"Now I'll shoot him if that's what you ask, but if you just take off your mask you find out that everything's gone wrong."_
> 
>  
> 
>  

Cali was never one for his kisses.

 

This fact perplexed Gavin more often than not; when he attempted to lean in and press his thinner lips to hers, she'd often recoil or shy away. Maybe it was because of the constant taste of acrid cigarette smoke that permeated his lips, maybe she truly did hate the disheveled appearance of his hair and was trying to punish him by holding back on any signs of affection until he fixed it. The taller of the two would always end up having to snake his arms around her thin frame and pull their bodies together. Kisses were chaste and gentle, like the brushing of a butterfly's wings against skin. He planted them like delicate daisies wherever he could manage on the pale span of the alabaster meadow that was her skin. The nape of her neck, the barely-there slopes on the sides of it, the hollow of her throat, along her jawline. He created a field of flowers on her skin and turned her into a mass of blossoms.

They'd spent weeks planning this simple heist. It wasn't anything extraordinary, not anything that they thought that they wouldn't be able to handle. A simple liquor store robbery. They weren't even in it for the money. They were in it for the imaginable rush, the adrenaline pumping through their veins as they made their wild getaway. The duo thought that it would just be a quick shot: get in, wave their silver-plated revolver around and threaten to shoot, get the money, shove it into their canvas rucksack, go.

It was supposed to take a few minutes at most. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. They hadn't accounted for any holes in their plot; they thought that it was foolproof. Geoff drove them up to the perimeter of the parking lot-- car park, as Gavin so lovingly called them, correcting the crew any time they referred to it as anything else. The van was on the edge of the car park, and together with their hands intertwined, Cali and Gavin made their way out of the stalled vehicle and towards the front door of the store. It was surprisingly deserted on this day, at this time. It seemed like the usual hustle and bustle of the town had just suddenly stilled for them to try this. Everyone was gone, and it was just them, them and their hammering heartbeats, them and their fluttery footsteps as their soles slapped against the cracked, tar-sticky concrete. The girl swung their hands slowly back and forth between their frames, giving Gavin's hand a small, reassuring squeeze. She could feel the slightest of tremors running through his body, knowing that his nerves were likely a ragged mess by now. She wasn't doing much better herself, her palms damp with the faintest gloss of sweat, but she couldn't let her calm facade crack. She was the voice of reason, and he was the one with a hairpin trigger. He was an impulsive bastard, a fact that Cali stated often, amusedly, a twinkle in her eye and a crooked grin on her berry-pink lips. She thought everything out, and she had to think it all out for the both of them, especially in times like this when tension was high, thick enough to be sliced with a knife. It was palpable, tangible, hanging heavily in the air, almost dense enough for them to choke on. 

"Ready?" she asked her boyfriend, shaking her head and causing her wave of aubergine locks to cascade down her back. Getting just a curt nod in response, she let a quiet sigh fall from her parted lips and reached into her purse. Her fingertips grazed along the cold metal of her pearl-handled, silver-plated revolver. Six bullets were loaded into the chamber, but none of them were to be shot. That was the one thing that the group had agreed on long ago: no shots fired, no people injured or killed. Wrapping her fingers around the handle of the gun, Cali retracted it from the depths of her clutch and handed it over to Gavin. He took it and wrapped his free hand tightly around it. The tanned skin of his hand was drawn taut over his knuckles, causing the patches to go white from lack of blood flow. Shaking it out, he tried to stop his body from shaking, to stop his hands from quaking like mini earthquakes were erupting in his nerves. 

Swallowing hard, Gavin clenched his jaw, counting every beat of his heart as it thumped away in his eardrums. One.. two.. one two.. onetwo.. onetwoonetwoone-- "Let's do it." His voice came out harsher, gruffer than he meant for it to. He tugged his hand away from Cali's just long enough to take his black bandanna and pull it over the lower half of his face, masking his features. Dropping his hand back, their own fingers finding each other like the polar opposite sides of magnets, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more. The kiss was brief, it was quick and had the whiskey-scented material between their mouths, but it was fiery with passion. Gritting his teeth, he tugged her along into the shop. The bell dinged, chimed as the door swung open and shut from his touch. 

Everything else that followed came in a flash, a whirl of time and actions. Before either of them knew what was happening, the plan went from good to bad. Things had fallen into place, until suddenly, they just.. went wrong. Gavin's voice was a commanding bellow, and he had waved the gun around exactly like how they had rehearsed. He didn't point the barrel at anyone, but he definitely looked like he had total control over the situation. And both he and Cali thought that he was the alpha male there until the cashier ducked behind the counter and came back up with a compact pistol. Dozens of times they had swept the area, canvassed the store, and dozens of times they had missed the fucking Glock 17 that was stored right below the register. Two pulls of the trigger, that was all it took for Cali's world to come crashing down. 

Bang. Bang.

Blood. Cali had never seen so much fucking blood in her life. It was seeping out of the two bullet holes in her boyfriend's stomach-- god, it was everywhere. It clung sticky to his hands like coppery glue, dripping from his fingertips. His yelp of agonizing pain rang in her ears as she screamed, the sound bursting from her throat before she could even think about stopping it. Wrapping an arm around the love of her life, she attempted futilely to haul him out of the store and to safety. But he was dead weight, his knees buckling beneath him, expression drawn into one of white-hot suffering. Clamping both of their hands over his stomach, wincing as she felt the billowing blood seeping through the cotton of his shirt. Dragging him along, she begged, pleaded with Gavin, "Please, please, baby stay with me. That's all I ask of you. Fuck, just hold on." Turning her head to the man who had dropped his gun in horror, she flung the bag at him, sounding a wordless cry before sobbing desperately, bidding for him to not shoot anymore, saying between heartwrenching cries that they would leave.

He just stared blankly after the duo as they barely managed to stagger out of the store. Luckily, Michael had sprung into action after hearing the staccato noise of the piercing fired shots. Face blanching of color when his chocolate gaze landed upon his nearly-fallen best friend, he hurried forward and slung his other arm over his shoulders. Helping them hobble along, he shouted, "Ray, open the fucking door!" 

And Ray did exactly that, flinging the door open for them to thrust the wounded Brit in. And thrust him in they did, Gavin landing on the floor of the car with an airy whine. His back arched, and he writhed in torturous distress. The youngest of the gang coaxed him back down, soothingly cooing as Cali clambered in and smoothed his hair back and away from his sweaty face. 

"Gav, Gav, shh.." Cali's voice quavered as hot, bitter tears tottered on her waterline. One blink was all it took before they spilled down her pale cheeks, dripping and pattering on her pants as she sat cross legged with Gavin's head on her lap. Twirling his mousy brown hair around her index finger, she shook her head again, like the weight of the situation had yet to truly settle down on her. But really, it already had. It was like the world was resting on her chest, and she could barely find it in herself to draw in a single breath. But she had to keep breathing, keep moving, keep talking because Gavin was fucking fading away right before her very eyes. Her baby, her only, her love, her prince that she hoped to someday make her king. Her everything. 

"I-I can't--" Pause to hack, blood smattering the back of his hand that he raised to cover his mouth, staining his lips crimson. "I can't leave you, Cali."

"Gavin, shut the fuck up. Please. Save your strength."

"Kiss me."

She complied without a second thought, without a moment of hesitation. His bandanna had long since been pulled down, and nothing obscured her path as she leaned down and crashed their lips together. The twang of his metallic blood was on her lips, permeating her tastebuds and attacking her mouth, but she didn't care. It was Gavin, Gavin underneath all the blood. He kissed with more life than he appeared to have in his oceanic eyes. It's like he knew it would be one of the last times their lips touched. It's like he knew that it was end.

It took ten minutes for Gavin Free to die in her arms. It took seven and a half before his breathing grew shakier, more ragged, each inhalation shallower than the last, exhalation ending with more of a rattling wheeze. It took nine before the life truly started fading from his eyes, his body growing colder, stiffer. Ten minutes of him incessantly saying that he couldn't leave Cali behind, that he couldn't die on her, not now, not ever. Ten minutes of her holding him so close that she could feel his breath on her chest, feel the air growing fainter, less rhythmic and more erratic. Ten minutes of promises that neither of them would be able to keep. Ten minutes of Gavin managing to croak out how badly he wanted to marry Cali, make her his wife, Mrs. Free. Ten minutes of silence in the rest of the van, the guys giving them their last bit of time together how they deserved it: just between them. Geoff's eyes never strayed from the windshield, not even when they filled with tears that he brushed away with his thumb. Michael pulled his legs up to his chest, hid his face against the rough material of his acid-washed jeans, threaded his blood-crusted fingers in his dense mop of dark ginger curls and pulled on them. Ray kept his eyes shut, the side of his face pressed to the cold glass of his window, and he trapped himself away in the confines of his mind. 

Ten minutes. Once they were up, Cali witnessed every last bit of liveliness drain from Gavin's being. She watched his soul depart from the world, his seafoam eyes glassy, dull. The hand that he had had pressed to the side of her face dropped, his body going limp in her arms as his heart gave out. With his last bit of air, he had breathed, "I love.." 

The rest of the ride back to their hideaway was silent, sans the cacophonous symphony of Cali's wails, her gasps for air between each one. She clutched Gavin so tightly to her, she never wanted to let him go.

They all went separate ways when they got back. Geoff punched the side of the house, tilting his head towards the cloudless sky and cursing the gods that he had stopped believing in years ago. Ray lurched over to the bushes and puked every last bit of his stomach contents up into the violet-hued hydrangeas, and Michael went inside and picked up a bottle of whiskey for the first time in months, a year. He had sworn alcohol away, but now it was the only thing that he could use to dull the throbbing knife that was stabbed into his heart. Into all of their hearts.

Gavin was fucking gone, and there was nothing that any of them could do to change it. They couldn't go back into time, they couldn't talk to their past selves and get it through their thick-skulls and into their drug-ravaged brains that their plan wouldn't work.

Geoff killed himself less than a year later. He took a shotgun and positioned it in his mouth before pulling the trigger, splattering his brains all over his bedroom walls. Michael lost himself to cocaine and ended up dying a painful death from an overdose a couple years after. Ray fell off the face of the earth after drinking himself into a stupor every night. He disappeared, and the crew was obsolete. 

And all Cali could do was stay in her empty bed, wishing that the side of it beside her was still occupied by a stupid fucking English man. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that, though he believed that nobody was there to watch over her now that he was gone, Gavin was possibly watching over her. She didn't believe in God after all that had gone down, nor did she think that heaven existed, but she hoped that in another world, another dimension, he was there for her. That they were happy and married and had had the two or three children that they had discussed time and time again, that they lived in a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a dog and cat roaming around after toddlers veering along on their chubby little legs. All she could do was dream that he had finished speaking his last words and died telling her he loved her.

All she could do was live. She couldn't die. Because if she died, there would be absolutely nobody left in the world to remember him. So she lived, solely for him, because she had promised to keep existing again. She couldn't love again, because her heart had died along with Gavin. It was buried in the backyard of their long-forgotten hideaway. But she could remember him. And that would have to be enough.


End file.
